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Living as Myself, at Last Living as Myself, at Last
(about 3 hours later)
“I don’t believe that transgender people should be in the military.” In 2015, when I heard those words from my supervisor, I was a young technical sergeant in the United States Air Force, and a closeted transgender person. My boss, a master sergeant, went on to explain to me and a couple of other airmen in the office that transgender people had too many problems, that they had mental health issues, that there were too many logistical problems with dorms and open-bay showers and not being deployable.“I don’t believe that transgender people should be in the military.” In 2015, when I heard those words from my supervisor, I was a young technical sergeant in the United States Air Force, and a closeted transgender person. My boss, a master sergeant, went on to explain to me and a couple of other airmen in the office that transgender people had too many problems, that they had mental health issues, that there were too many logistical problems with dorms and open-bay showers and not being deployable.
I was 10 years into my career. I had deployed a couple of years before to Afghanistan and had earned a number of decorations and praise from my leadership. I always kept my office door open, and routinely walked around and talked with my peers and the airmen for whom I was responsible about their work, their hopes and plans for the future, and provided the best mentorship I could while instilling in them a sense of independence and trust. Unfortunately, there was a part of myself that I could not be honest with them about. In a military service that prides itself in having “integrity first” — the first part of the Air Force’s official core values — I wasn’t able to reveal a very vital piece of my identity that made me Alexandria Holder. In fact, I couldn’t even be Alexandria Holder; I was Corwin Holder, a male airman.I was 10 years into my career. I had deployed a couple of years before to Afghanistan and had earned a number of decorations and praise from my leadership. I always kept my office door open, and routinely walked around and talked with my peers and the airmen for whom I was responsible about their work, their hopes and plans for the future, and provided the best mentorship I could while instilling in them a sense of independence and trust. Unfortunately, there was a part of myself that I could not be honest with them about. In a military service that prides itself in having “integrity first” — the first part of the Air Force’s official core values — I wasn’t able to reveal a very vital piece of my identity that made me Alexandria Holder. In fact, I couldn’t even be Alexandria Holder; I was Corwin Holder, a male airman.
I lived a lie because I had to. For decades, transgender people had been forbidden to serve in the United States military. Executive Order 10450, signed by President Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1953, was used to deny federal employment to the L.G.B.T. community (among other groups) on the grounds that we were guilty of “sexual perversion.” It was put into place during a time when gay people in government positions were being rooted out and fired — a byproduct of the anti-Communist campaign led by Senator Joseph R. McCarthy in Washington. The ban was put in place despite people like Christine Jorgensen, the first American publicly known to have received gender-reassignment surgery. Jorgensen was an Army veteran who became a very public transgender advocate in the 1950s. Transgender people were further targeted by Army Regulation 40-501 in 1963, declaring us mentally unfit for service. I lived a lie because I had to. For decades, transgender people had been forbidden to serve in the United States military. Executive Order 10450, signed by President Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1953, was used to deny federal employment to the L.G.B.T. community (among other groups) on the grounds that we were guilty of “sexual perversion.” It was put into place during a time when gay people in government positions were being rooted out and fired — a byproduct of the anti-Communist campaign led by Senator Joseph R. McCarthy in Washington. This was despite people like Christine Jorgensen, the first American publicly known to have received gender-reassignment surgery. Jorgensen was an Army veteran who became a very public transgender advocate in the 1950s. Transgender people were further targeted by Army Regulation 40-501 in 1963, declaring us mentally unfit for service.
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My wife, Brittanie, and I talked about the secret I was keeping. She knew how much it upset me, and she worried that I would make an impulsive decision, like coming out to my Air Force peers or choosing not to re-enlist. Brittanie asked me what kind of person I was. She asked if I was going to be what my supervisor had described, unable to serve by choosing to be unworthy of the uniform. She asked if I might not do better to stay in, to live up to my full potential and to prove to everyone that transgender people could serve, and serve well.My wife, Brittanie, and I talked about the secret I was keeping. She knew how much it upset me, and she worried that I would make an impulsive decision, like coming out to my Air Force peers or choosing not to re-enlist. Brittanie asked me what kind of person I was. She asked if I was going to be what my supervisor had described, unable to serve by choosing to be unworthy of the uniform. She asked if I might not do better to stay in, to live up to my full potential and to prove to everyone that transgender people could serve, and serve well.
I decided to stay. I repeatedly took up volunteer opportunities, becoming a unit deployment manager, a unit security manager and a handful of other additional duties on top of that. I participated in fund-raisers and booster club activities, and sought opportunities to give back to the local community in Fort Meade, Md., by volunteering to support charities and homeless shelters. And, in the beginning of 2016, I went on another deployment to support a unit at Fort Bragg in North Carolina.I decided to stay. I repeatedly took up volunteer opportunities, becoming a unit deployment manager, a unit security manager and a handful of other additional duties on top of that. I participated in fund-raisers and booster club activities, and sought opportunities to give back to the local community in Fort Meade, Md., by volunteering to support charities and homeless shelters. And, in the beginning of 2016, I went on another deployment to support a unit at Fort Bragg in North Carolina.
Outside of work, Brittanie and I found ways to cope. She guided me through shaving my legs for the first time, and we winced together at every nick and cut. My slacks and button-up shirts gave way to tight jeans and more form-flattering shirts. I started to come out to a small number of my close friends and family members, slowly widening my circle of trust. To my (most happy) surprise, one of the responses I received most often was “I kind of figured something like that — either that or you were gay.” I couldn’t yet transition medically, but I was hoping to be able to do so after I completed my time in uniform.Outside of work, Brittanie and I found ways to cope. She guided me through shaving my legs for the first time, and we winced together at every nick and cut. My slacks and button-up shirts gave way to tight jeans and more form-flattering shirts. I started to come out to a small number of my close friends and family members, slowly widening my circle of trust. To my (most happy) surprise, one of the responses I received most often was “I kind of figured something like that — either that or you were gay.” I couldn’t yet transition medically, but I was hoping to be able to do so after I completed my time in uniform.
But even as I continued to thrive professionally, and even as my friends and family helped build my confidence with their acceptance, I still felt stuck. I still felt that I was living a lie. All that changed in June 2016. I was in my second deployment, working long hours, spending my time off in an “on call” status and burying myself in pursuit of being the best section chief and leader I could possibly be. Emerging from the building where I worked, eyes squinting in the sunlight that I saw too little of, I checked my phone and noticed several text messages and phone calls from my wife.But even as I continued to thrive professionally, and even as my friends and family helped build my confidence with their acceptance, I still felt stuck. I still felt that I was living a lie. All that changed in June 2016. I was in my second deployment, working long hours, spending my time off in an “on call” status and burying myself in pursuit of being the best section chief and leader I could possibly be. Emerging from the building where I worked, eyes squinting in the sunlight that I saw too little of, I checked my phone and noticed several text messages and phone calls from my wife.
Fearing the worst, I called her immediately. “Honey, have you heard the news?” she basically screamed into the phone. “Transgender people can serve and not get kicked out!”Fearing the worst, I called her immediately. “Honey, have you heard the news?” she basically screamed into the phone. “Transgender people can serve and not get kicked out!”
I was stunned. I had hopes that one day the ban would be overturned, but I didn’t think it would happen while I was still in uniform. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” had been repealed only five years before, and women were slowly being integrated into combat roles. These changes were still being implemented, but the cultural acceptance of them within the military community was slow, and because of that I was sure a repeal of the transgender ban was still a pipe dream. And yet, there was Ashton Carter, the secretary of defense, on news stations and on websites, saying the same thing every time: “Starting today: Otherwise qualified service members can no longer be involuntarily separated, discharged or denied re-enlistment or continuation of service just for being transgender.”I was stunned. I had hopes that one day the ban would be overturned, but I didn’t think it would happen while I was still in uniform. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” had been repealed only five years before, and women were slowly being integrated into combat roles. These changes were still being implemented, but the cultural acceptance of them within the military community was slow, and because of that I was sure a repeal of the transgender ban was still a pipe dream. And yet, there was Ashton Carter, the secretary of defense, on news stations and on websites, saying the same thing every time: “Starting today: Otherwise qualified service members can no longer be involuntarily separated, discharged or denied re-enlistment or continuation of service just for being transgender.”
I was ecstatic and eager to start my transition, but I was still deployed. I waited out the rest of the months of my deployment, earned a Joint Service Commendation Medal for my efforts and headed home. I didn’t yet tell anyone at work about my transgender status, but I decided to start with my Air Force doctor.I was ecstatic and eager to start my transition, but I was still deployed. I waited out the rest of the months of my deployment, earned a Joint Service Commendation Medal for my efforts and headed home. I didn’t yet tell anyone at work about my transgender status, but I decided to start with my Air Force doctor.
In October 2016, I sat nervously in the office of a young first lieutenant physician assistant, having no idea how the conversation was going to go. “Lieutenant, I’m transgender,” I told her.In October 2016, I sat nervously in the office of a young first lieutenant physician assistant, having no idea how the conversation was going to go. “Lieutenant, I’m transgender,” I told her.
My worst fears were just that — fears. She was inexperienced at things related to transgender care, but she was extremely positive and willing to help. It became a learning experience for both of us, and over the following two and a half years we navigated PowerPoint slides and vague email guidance that had been sent from various departments and commands. I had my transition plan paperwork lost, resubmitted and finally accepted. To begin hormone therapy, I had to see a mental health specialist multiple times and receive a gender dysphoria diagnosis, the first step in the transition process. I had to go to endocrinology and have blood samples taken — a lot of blood samples, every three months, to establish my baseline hormone levels. The process was not expensive or particularly time intensive, just painfully slow because I had to navigate the military’s medical system, which was still adjusting to this policy change.My worst fears were just that — fears. She was inexperienced at things related to transgender care, but she was extremely positive and willing to help. It became a learning experience for both of us, and over the following two and a half years we navigated PowerPoint slides and vague email guidance that had been sent from various departments and commands. I had my transition plan paperwork lost, resubmitted and finally accepted. To begin hormone therapy, I had to see a mental health specialist multiple times and receive a gender dysphoria diagnosis, the first step in the transition process. I had to go to endocrinology and have blood samples taken — a lot of blood samples, every three months, to establish my baseline hormone levels. The process was not expensive or particularly time intensive, just painfully slow because I had to navigate the military’s medical system, which was still adjusting to this policy change.
After more than a year and a half of verifications, checks and double-checks, I finally had my transition plan approved. I started on hormone replacement therapy a couple of months after that, and the physical portion of my transition began. I was prescribed patches to administer estrogen, and a testosterone blocker in pill form. It takes a very special kind of person to be willing to go through puberty a second time. It takes a lot of internal strength and willpower, and you still get all those annoying growing pains, body awkwardness and social anxiety that were there the first time around. While I was ecstatic to finally transition, I experienced mood swings that I needed to adjust to, and the emotions I felt seemed to be deeper and more important than before.After more than a year and a half of verifications, checks and double-checks, I finally had my transition plan approved. I started on hormone replacement therapy a couple of months after that, and the physical portion of my transition began. I was prescribed patches to administer estrogen, and a testosterone blocker in pill form. It takes a very special kind of person to be willing to go through puberty a second time. It takes a lot of internal strength and willpower, and you still get all those annoying growing pains, body awkwardness and social anxiety that were there the first time around. While I was ecstatic to finally transition, I experienced mood swings that I needed to adjust to, and the emotions I felt seemed to be deeper and more important than before.
My body became more feminine in appearance. I paid for my own laser hair removal on my face, and between that, the hormones and copious amounts of wax to tame the eyebrows that my dad’s ancestors gifted me, I started to realign my outward appearance with my inner self-image. I had a minor surgery — a tracheal shave, to smooth my Adam’s apple, but that was it for the entirety of my transition. I took no days off. I had the occasional trip to a medical provider, but I minimized the interruptions with phone appointments and emails. I had one minor procedure, a few dollars of pills every month and that was it. Everyone who needed to sign off that I had completed my transition did so, and I got all of the official Air Force systems updated.My body became more feminine in appearance. I paid for my own laser hair removal on my face, and between that, the hormones and copious amounts of wax to tame the eyebrows that my dad’s ancestors gifted me, I started to realign my outward appearance with my inner self-image. I had a minor surgery — a tracheal shave, to smooth my Adam’s apple, but that was it for the entirety of my transition. I took no days off. I had the occasional trip to a medical provider, but I minimized the interruptions with phone appointments and emails. I had one minor procedure, a few dollars of pills every month and that was it. Everyone who needed to sign off that I had completed my transition did so, and I got all of the official Air Force systems updated.
While undergoing my medical transition, I addressed what is often the more difficult part: my social transition. I came out publicly via a Facebook post, then ducked into work without my phone. Twelve hours later, I gingerly picked it up to see dozens of messages of support, and more likes and hearts than I had ever gotten for any of my previous posts.While undergoing my medical transition, I addressed what is often the more difficult part: my social transition. I came out publicly via a Facebook post, then ducked into work without my phone. Twelve hours later, I gingerly picked it up to see dozens of messages of support, and more likes and hearts than I had ever gotten for any of my previous posts.
My old supervisor was still there in my mind the whole time. Since that conversation, I still felt unworthy of the uniform that I wore because of his words, and I didn’t think I would ever be able to move past that sense of insecurity. It didn’t help that the Trump administration placed new restrictions against transgender people serving in the military. (Since I have already transitioned I am allowed to continue serving, but as of April 2019, service members or recruits who have not transitioned yet are no longer allowed to do so; they can serve only if they adhere to their “biological sex.”)My old supervisor was still there in my mind the whole time. Since that conversation, I still felt unworthy of the uniform that I wore because of his words, and I didn’t think I would ever be able to move past that sense of insecurity. It didn’t help that the Trump administration placed new restrictions against transgender people serving in the military. (Since I have already transitioned I am allowed to continue serving, but as of April 2019, service members or recruits who have not transitioned yet are no longer allowed to do so; they can serve only if they adhere to their “biological sex.”)
In 2018, that old supervisor and I got stationed in the same unit again, three years after he and I had that memorable conversation, two years since I started my transition, and a year after I came out publicly. I saw him in the hallway outside of my office, and I gave him a brief nod and a smile and planned to keep walking, but he gently pulled me aside. “Hey, man,” he said. “I just wanted to say that I support you 100 percent, and if you need anything just let me know.”In 2018, that old supervisor and I got stationed in the same unit again, three years after he and I had that memorable conversation, two years since I started my transition, and a year after I came out publicly. I saw him in the hallway outside of my office, and I gave him a brief nod and a smile and planned to keep walking, but he gently pulled me aside. “Hey, man,” he said. “I just wanted to say that I support you 100 percent, and if you need anything just let me know.”
I was speechless. A wave of thoughts and emotions washed over me, mostly relief and, strangely enough, gratitude. I had gone through so much, and worked so diligently to try to prove to my old supervisor, myself, the Air Force and those around me that I was a human being worthy of respect, and worthy of the uniform that I still wear. With a simple act my former supervisor provided me with that validation.I was speechless. A wave of thoughts and emotions washed over me, mostly relief and, strangely enough, gratitude. I had gone through so much, and worked so diligently to try to prove to my old supervisor, myself, the Air Force and those around me that I was a human being worthy of respect, and worthy of the uniform that I still wear. With a simple act my former supervisor provided me with that validation.
In that moment, it felt like my transition was finally complete.In that moment, it felt like my transition was finally complete.